


every single star

by orphan_account



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, jongdae is kind of in it for .0002 seconds, past/broken chansoo, the melancholy of park chanyeol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3712051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>chanyeol dials the wrong number.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every single star

**Author's Note:**

> crossposting from lj (http://ancoats.livejournal.com/3216.html) after a million years....... but you know *lana del rey voice* late is better than never

Chanyeol didn’t much care for the taste of metal in his mouth—blood, it was mostly definitely blood—or the pounding in his head. It had been a rough night and he was very, very confused. Mostly about the fact that he was bleeding and also kind of felt like he was dying.

“I don’t understand what happened,” he said.

“Well, this guy was getting really touchy with Jinri, right? And he was making her super uncomfortable,” Jongdae said. Jongdae was sober, always the designated driver in these situations. He urged Chanyeol to drink water in a feeble attempt to quell his nausea.

“Right. Okay, I remember that.”

“And you punched him.”

“Okay.”

“And then he punched you. About ten times. But the good news is that he left everyone alone after that!”

“Jesus. Okay. What the fuck? What is wrong with me? Why would I punch a guy? I’ve never punched a guy in my life.”

“You were being decent. And you were really drunk.”

“My face feels like it’s on fire. Literally. My head is an inferno right now. Fuck.”

“You’re still drunk. You need to go to bed.”

Jongdae’s car came to a stop and Chanyeol slid halfway down the passenger seat. “I don’t want to move,” he said. “I don’t want to go anywhere. I don’t want to do anything. Jongdae, carry me.”

“You are fucking nuts! You’re like a goliath. I can’t carry you, asshole,” Jongdae laughed. “Get the hell out of my car and get some sleep, okay? And try not to worry so much about Kyungsoo. I think everything is going to be okay.”

“Kyungsoo?” Chanyeol repeated, struggling to put on his jacket due to his diminished motor skills. “Kyungsoo… Why can’t I get this fucking jacket on, for fuck’s sake,” he whined.

Jongdae helped Chanyeol out of the car and walked with him to his building to make sure he got there okay. “I’ll see you around, alright? Get some rest.”

“Yeah, whatever. Goodnight,” Chanyeol muttered, digging around in his pocket for his keys.

“Uh, by the way, you deleted Kyungsoo’s number from your phone in a fit of drunken existential despair,” Jongdae called over his shoulder.

Before Chanyeol could even register what he said, Jongdae was gone.

“What the fuck,” Chanyeol whispered. “This is bullshit.”

He didn’t usually have the habit of talking to himself when he was drunk but he had apparently hit a new low tonight. He dragged himself up the stairs and to his apartment where he struggled to unlock the door. The lights on his floor were too dim to really see anything. “I hate this. I hate literally everything.”

His apartment was still a mess from moving in. Unpacked boxes were stacked up haphazardly around the inflatable mattress that was currently acting as a bed, a sofa, a table, and a desk during this time of physical and emotional readjustment. He would get to all the other shit eventually.

“Not gonna worry about Kyungsoo,” he said, punching the air two times and trying to shake away the lethargy that was setting in.

But he couldn’t even really remember why he would be worried about Kyungsoo in the first place. He mentally rewound to two hours ago—drinking with everyone, but Kyungsoo wasn’t there—then four hours ago—closing the store—and then twelve hours ago.

Twelve hours ago.

“Ohhhhhhhh fuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” Chanyeol whined, sinking to the floor. He remembered.

It had always been in the back of Chanyeol’s mind. Kyungsoo was meant for greater things and he was worth more than the same average life everyone around him was living. Kyungsoo was remarkable, in the sense that he was small and seemed so delicate, but he was truly a force to be reckoned with. He wanted to go places.

He was determined to go places.

Next semester, he was going places.

“You know, for a year… or two,” he had said. “I’ve always wanted to study abroad and now I have my chance, so I don’t want to pass it up. And, uh… I don’t know, Chanyeol, I don’t really know about the whole long distance thing. It just seems like added stress… Not like that! Come on, don’t take it like that. I know, it sounded bad. But just hear me out.”

It was fine, honestly. It didn’t bother Chanyeol at all. He wanted Kyungsoo to do all these things that he wanted to accomplish in his life. But was it really so wrong of Chanyeol to feel a little sad? Was it really so awful that Chanyeol was going to miss Kyungsoo and was Chanyeol incorrect in feeling like their relationship was ending prematurely?

Kyungsoo promised it wasn’t going to be forever, that this wasn’t some finite contract the two of them were signing where they agreed to avoid crossing paths ever again in their natural lifetimes, but it was hard to understand that at the moment. Kyungsoo always had this detached coldness when dealing with things like this, as if nothing in the world could get under his skin, and Chanyeol was the one who felt things so much.

Maybe Kyungsoo didn’t really care at all.

Maybe Chanyeol kind of wanted to call Kyungsoo.

He dug his phone out of his pocket and sloppily dialed what he was almost positive was Kyungsoo’s number. And this wasn’t going to turn into a fight or anything like that, Chanyeol certainly wasn’t going to cry or anything, now that was just a ridiculous idea, but there was no harm in talking.

“Uh… hello?” said a voice on the other end of the line.

“H-hey… Hey… Kyungsoo?”

“No, this isn’t Kyungsoo. I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.”

“What? No. No this is absolutely… Kyungsoo’s number. Positively.”

“I promise I am not lying to you, friend.”

“But… If this isn’t Kyungsoo’s number then… what is?” Chanyeol asked, mostly to himself. He zoned out trying to remember and then tuned back in at the sound of the person on the other line laughing under his breath. There was nothing mean or judgmental about the laugh at all, but Chanyeol still whined at the stranger. “Don’t make fun of meeeeee!”

“I’m not making fun of you!” the stranger assured him. “You sound like you’ve had a rough night. Why don’t you try calling Kyungsoo tomorrow?”

“Maybe. Okay, yeah… Fine. I guess,” Chanyeol said, sinking into his inflatable mattress and trying to smother himself to death with a pillow.

“Call Kyungsoo tomorrow, my drunken friend.”

“Hey, I’m not—”

The line disconnected. Chanyeol stared at his phone for a moment before letting it drop out of his hand and onto the floor. The battery flew out and he didn’t really care to do anything about, instead rolling over and somehow managing to fall into a miserable and uncomfortable sleep.

When he awoke the next morning, he immediately crawled to the bathroom and proceeded to puke his guts out. This was already a terrible day. He was going to have to call the store and tell Junmyeon that he was probably going to be a little late.

With what little energy he could muster, he picked up his phone and the battery, placing them back together and wondering if he would have any missed calls from Kyungsoo.

Probably not.

He could vaguely remember talking to someone last night. Someone he didn’t know. He checked through his call logs and saw a brief conversation with a number that was a couple digits off from Kyungsoo’s.

“Embarrassing,” he groaned, falling on his bed. He almost felt guilty.

Hesitantly, he typed out a quick text— _hey I’m really sorry for calling you last night, hope I didn’t cause you too much trouble_ —and held his hands over his eyes until he accidentally dozed off for a few minutes. His text tone woke him up.

_Hey, it’s no problem. Everything okay, friend?_

Chanyeol laughed to himself. He wasn’t expecting someone he had never even met to be so caring and considerate. He quickly texted back, yeah it’s all good. After a few minutes of consideration, he added the number to his contacts under the name “mysterious stranger”. What was the harm?

 **mysterious stranger, 11:21 AM** :  
_Did you ever talk to Kyungsoo? He must really be something if you were so desperate to talk to him *__*_

 **Chanyeol, 11:23 AM** :  
_no, actually, but thanks for asking. why do you care so much anyway haha_

 **mysterious stranger, 11:27 AM** :  
_I don’t know, you just sounded sad. It made me feel sad too._

 **Chanyeol, 11:30 AM** :  
_well i appreciate it_

 **mysterious stranger, 11:32 AM** :  
_No problem. Hey, I have to go to class soon, but if you need someone to talk to, give me a call later._

 **Chanyeol, 11:35 AM** :  
_why would you would do that for a complete stranger?_

 **mysterious stranger, 11:40 AM** :  
_Why not? Anyway, gotta go! Talk to you later! :)_

Chanyeol scrolled up on his phone and read through the conversation again. As weird as it was, there was something nice about the idea of talking to someone who didn’t know a single thing about him. Chanyeol found it impossible to talk to any of his friends right now, because all of his friends were also Kyungsoo’s friends, and everything they said was pretty much useless in every regard.

When he got to work that afternoon, Junmyeon didn’t even reprimand him for being late and was nice enough to avoid any topic of conversation that could possibly lead to anything vaguely related to Kyungsoo. Chanyeol checked his phone through the day and wasn’t sure if he was more anxious about Kyungsoo texting him or Mysterious Stranger. That was totally weird.

On his way home, he stopped by the drug store across the street from his apartment and bought some medicine for his pounding headache. At the checkout, he got a text, which he replied to as he haphazardly walked straight through traffic to get home.

 **mysterious stranger, 6:15 PM** :  
_Hey :)_

 **Chanyeol, 6:16 PM** :  
_hey. so what’s your name?_

 **mysterious stranger, 6:18 PM** :  
_That’s rather unimportant._

 **Chanyeol, 6:23 PM** :  
_don’t you want to know mine?_

 **mysterious stranger, 6:27 PM** :  
_Not really!_

 **Chanyeol, 6:29 PM** :  
_what name do you have my number under in your phone?_

 **mysterious stranger, 6:30 PM** :  
_Not telling :) :) :)_

Chanyeol stared at that text for a few minutes, forehead pressed against the door to his apartment.

Impulsively, he called Mysterious Stranger.

“Hello!”

“You totally need to tell me what my contact name is in your phone,” Chanyeol said, unlocking his apartment, shuffling inside, and immediately tossing his headache medicine on the floor.

“I already said I’m not telling!” said Mysterious Stranger. His voice was soft, and light, and sounded so gentle—which Chanyeol was nearly positive was probably incredibly misleading. “What do you have me down as in your phone?”

“Hey, I’m not playing any games here. Your contact name is ‘mysterious stranger’ because that’s exactly what you are.”

“Okay. Fair enough. Your contact name in my phone is ‘drunk loser’.”

“That’s just mean,” said Chanyeol.

“But that’s exactly what you are!” Mysterious Stranger mocked. “You drunk-dialed me at like three in the morning and you’re going to try to refute this. Don’t even start, Drunk Loser.”

Chanyeol didn’t even know what to say, but before he knew it, he was laughing. In some weird way, this was the most rewarding social interaction he’d had in the last week or so. There was a surprising lack of pressure on his shoulders, despite his usual vague sense of phone-induced anxiety.

And Chanyeol was kind of—actually, he was incredibly fucking lonely right now.

“Hey, Drunk Loser?”

“Yes?”

“What’s up with Kyungsoo?”

Chanyeol sighed. “It just feels weird to tell you all this super personal shit about me when you don’t even know my name. I don’t know. Kyungsoo’s my boyfriend. Or I mean, he was. He’s going to study abroad for a while and he didn’t want to do the whole long distance relationship thing. That’s fine, I respect that, but I feel like he thinks I’m being unreasonable for feeling a little bummed out.”

“Hmm, well,” said Mysterious Stranger, “I take it you haven’t talked to him lately.”

“Not in a few days.”

“That’s no good. Communication is key.”

“He can be hard to talk to.”

“I understand. Drunk Loser, someone being hard to talk to doesn’t mean you should stop trying to talk to them. You think Kyungsoo’s not scared? You think he’s not terrified right now? If that’s how you’re seeing him then I’ll bet you anything in the world that you’re completely wrong.”

Chanyeol let out the heaviest sigh he could manage and hoped his guts would also expel from his body. “This is so weird. How do you know what to say? Like how are you doing this?”

“I’m a real sensitive guy, Drunk Loser.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Chanyeol scoffed. He unstacked some of the boxes piled up by his bed and contemplated opening them. “Hey, where do you live?”

“In the city.”

“What do you do?”

“I go to school.”

“That’s really vague. It makes you seem shady.”

Mysterious Stranger laughed. “Sorry, sorry, I don’t mean to sound shady. But school is quite literally all I really do lately. School, home, school, home. You know.”

Ah. So it seemed he was a little lonely, too.

“I work,” Chanyeol said. “I’m taking a break from school. I was starting to get overwhelmed and I kept feeling like I was trapped, or like I was being forced to make a bunch of really heavy decisions that I wasn’t ready to make. I didn’t know what I want to do with my life and people kept rushing me, like I had to know right then. And I didn’t know. I still don’t know.”

“I don’t know either,” said Mysterious Stranger. “You could say the degree I’m pursuing is useless. Don’t try to guess. I won’t tell you even if you get it right.”

“Fine,” said Chanyeol. He turned on his television (it was a miracle he had managed to have internet and cable set up in his apartment, all things considered) and flipped through the channels. “I don’t know if I’ll ever go back. I mean is school really more appealing than working a dead-end job at a supermarket and then coming home and watching movies by myself while I drink beer until I pass out? No way. I’ve got it made right now.”

“It sounds like you’re in kind of a slump. Don’t worry, I am too. I mean, I’m not a drunk loser like you, Drunk Loser, but still. I can relate.”

“Heeeeeeeeey, it’s fine to have a drink every now and again!”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Mysterious Stranger. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“You are not as nice as you seem, if I’m being honest,” said Chanyeol. He finally stopped flipping through channels, deciding on a movie he had already seen about twenty times since he was in high school. “Hey, what movies do you like?”

“Uhhh… well, I guess I don’t really like movies. Do animated movies count?”

Chanyeol snorted. “Sure,” he said.

“Now you’re being mean, Drunk Loser.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m sorry. Hey, I’m watching a really good movie right now. You should watch it, too. It’s not an anime but maybe you’ll like it anyway.”

“Yeah? What channel is it on?”

Chanyeol told him. He heard a shuffling sound on the other line and then the sound of the movie, just a split second off from his own TV. They were quiet, with the exception of Mysterious Stranger asking about details he had missed due to not catching the first few minutes of the film. Chanyeol explained everything for him in great detail, including the backstories of the characters and a bunch of trivia he had learned over the years.

As the movie ended, they both remained silence. Chanyeol finally realized that Mysterious Stranger seemed to have dozed off.

“Hey,” he said. No answer. “Hey, wake up.”

“Nooooo,” Mysterious Stranger whined.

“It’s time for bed. We can talk again tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Oka—” Mysterious Stranger cut himself off with a drawn out yawn. “Goodnight. Sleep well, Drunk Asshole.”  
  
“Oh, I’m an asshole now?”

“You made fun of me. You’re an asshole. Goodnight!” Click.

Chanyeol couldn’t help but laugh. He went into his contacts and decided he was going to even out the score. After much consideration, he edited Mysterious Stranger’s contact information, changing the name to Otaku Garbage.

It wasn’t until he was finally drifting off to sleep that he realized Kyungsoo hadn’t attempted to contact him all day. For a split second, it didn’t feel like it was worth getting upset over.

 

 

 

Chanyeol opened the store the next morning. It was Friday and he was on a long shift but the sweet freedom of a completely work-free weekend was just over the horizon for him. He was going to do all the things he had been wanting to do but was too busy for, like not unpacking, not cleaning anything ever, and not communicating with other human beings.

He wondered what Kyungsoo was up to. Probably super busy at school or something like that. For some reason it really bothered Chanyeol that Kyungsoo hadn’t even thought to mention where he would studying. It could be literally anywhere in the world. Did that mean Kyungsoo didn’t plan on keeping contact with him at all when he was gone? That just seemed a little harsh; then again, Kyungsoo liked to approach things in that way.

“The more it hurts now, the less it will hurt later” was what he always said. That meant next to nothing coming from someone who hardly seemed to feel anything at all.

But it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair for Chanyeol to brush Kyungsoo off as an emotionless robot. It wasn’t fair to pretend like the decisions Kyungsoo made in his life weren’t things that he struggled with and it wasn’t fair to pretend like he didn’t have quite a few things to feel bad about sometimes.

It was easy to do, but it certainly wasn’t fair.

Chanyeol decided to call Kyungsoo over his lunch break, but there was no answer. This was getting ridiculous and Chanyeol was probably starting to look super desperate. He vowed to never call Kyungsoo again. Well, unless there was a super good reason. And he could think of about a million super good reasons to call Kyungsoo. Still, though. No calling Kyungsoo. That was against the rules from now on.

His phone buzzed with a text.

 **otaku garbage, 1:05 PM** :  
_Good morning, Drunk Asshole :)_

 **Chanyeol, 1:06 PM** :  
_:) :) :) good morning, otaku garbage (: (: (:_

 **otaku garbage, 1:09 PM** :  
_Okay. Okay seriously?_

 **Chanyeol, 1:10 PM** :  
_ok i don’t see why its fair for you to fire all these shots at me yet i have to sit back and take it? no way_

 **otaku garbage, 1:13 PM** :  
_Fine. Okay. I accept this. It’s my lot in life. Utter and complete otaku filth._

Chanyeol laughed to himself and then shared a glance with Junmyeon who was sitting beside him and poking around at a cup of instant noodle. This wasn’t the kind of thing he felt like could be easily be explained so he hoped Junmyeon just wouldn’t ask any questions.

 **otaku garbage, 1:17 PM** :  
_So what’s up?_

 **Chanyeol, 1:20 PM** :  
_nothing really. working until this evening. i’ve been here all day._

 **otaku garbage, 1:21 PM** :  
_Ewwwwww :( I just took an exam._

 **Chanyeol, 1:24 PM** :  
_yeah? how’d you do??_

 **Chanyeol, 1:25 PM** :  
_i gotta get back to work brb. stocking shelves is truly my passion, if you didn’t know_

 **otaku garbage, 1:28 PM** :  
_I did okay. Call me later :)_

“Hey, are you talking to Kyungsoo?”

Chanyeol jumped and clumsily dropped his phone on the floor at the sound of Junmyeon’s voice. “Wh.. What? Kyungsoo? What?”

“Uh… yeah… Kyungsoo…? Chanyeol, are you okay?” Junmyeon asked. His eyed widened and he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Are you… under the influence?”

“No!” Chanyeol replied, crawling on his hands and knees and reaching under a display of free brownie samples to find his phone’s battery. He cleared his throat and repeated, calmer this time, “No.”

“Okay…” Junmyeon said. “You’ve been smiling at your phone a ton. I thought maybe you two made up or something.”

“Uh,” Chanyeol balked. “I’m reading… the news…”

“You never read the news, though,” Junmyeon said suspiciously.

“Now I do. I’m a changed man!” Chanyeol saluted Junmyeon and spun around, promptly colliding with the brownie stand and sending all of the free snacks flying through the air. “Fuck. I hate myself. I hate myself so much. I’m literally the worst.”

Junmyeon laughed and put his hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder. “Seems like you’re the same old Chanyeol to me. Now clean that up before I fire you. And don’t curse at work, for God’s sake. Customers could hear you.”

Chanyeol obediently picked the brownies up off of the floor. He stacked them up and snapped a quick picture, sending it to Otaku Garbage with the caption, “i fucked up everything” to which he received a quick reply of a thumbs up emoji.

A rush of customers came and went, leaving Chanyeol with very little time to think about anything else. By the time he clocked out, he was absolutely exhausted. He dragged himself home, toying around with this phone.

He dialed Kyungsoo’s number.

There wasn’t anything wrong with checking up with someone you care about. It had been quite a few days since they had spoken and anything could have happened between then and now.

He made the call, certain there wouldn’t be an answer.

“Hello?”

“Wh—uh… Kyungsoo! Hi!” Chanyeol said, trying to find the key to his apartment in his pocket. “Uh… hey.”

“Hey,” said Kyungsoo.

“I just wanted to… you know… see how things are going. Just wanted to, uh, make sure everything is okay with you.”

“Things are going good,” Kyungsoo said shortly. “What about with you?”

“Oh… things are great with me. They couldn’t be better!” That was a dumb thing to say.

“That’s good.”

“Hey… Kyungsoo, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for doing the thing where I freak out and refuse to listen to reason. It’s really not fair for you. I understand that and I want you to know that it’s awesome that you’re going to study abroad. I’m really happy.”

“Thank you.”

“I support you! Completely! Don’t ever think for one second that I don’t!”

“I never thought you didn’t. But it’s nice to actually hear it. Thank you, Chanyeol.”

A silence fell over the two of them, and before Chanyeol could determine whether it was awkward or not, Kyungsoo politely excused himself and ended the call with a quick “goodnight.”

Well. It was better than nothing.

His phone buzzed with a text from Jongdae asking if he wanted to go out for drinks. _im about to go to bed :(_ was his answer. It was kind of true. He was physically going to be in his bed. It didn’t necessarily mean he was going to be asleep, technically.

He contemplated Otaku Garbage’s number. Was he opting out of real life socialization for a complete stranger who could actually have dubious intentions? But really, the thought was a little ridiculous. It was the same as meeting someone on the internet with common interests and maintain a correspondence with them. It just happened to be over the phone.

He made the call.

“Took you long enough, Drunk Asshole,” said Otaku Garbage.

“Hello to you, too!” said Chanyeol. “Give me a break, I’m a busy man.”

“How was work? Besides, you know, knocking shit all over the floor. Are you usually that clumsy?”

“Work was okay. Sometimes I’m clumsy. It happens when you’re a giant.”

“A giant? How tall are you?”

“Really tall. How tall are you?”

Otaku Garbage hmph’d and huffed. “Not very tall,” he admitted. “We’d probably look really stupid standing next to each other. I mean, I’d look stupid.”

“I would argue that, but I don’t actually know what you look like, so it’s kind of hard.”

“Oh my God. Are you trying to hit me up? Is that what this is? You totally have a crush on me, don’t you.”

“What?” Chanyeol laughed. “No way. I don’t date otaku losers.”

“Well, that works out well. Because I don’t date aimless alcoholics who can’t function as normal adults in society.”

Chanyeol sighed. He opened his laptop and considering ordering takeout online for the millionth time since he had moved into this apartment, but then decided that would only further prove Otaku Garbage’s point. He was going to cook dinner tonight.

“Can you even cook?” Otaku Garbage asked.

“I can cook plenty of things,” Chanyeol insisted. This wasn’t quite true, but whatever. He rummaged around his boxes of unpacked belongings until he found his microwave. It was about time he started actually existing like a human being.

“Are you going to cook instant noodles? Instant noodles totally don’t count,” Otaku Garbage teased. “Especially if you make them in the microwave.”

“Fuck you. Just… absolutely, fuck you. I’m trying my hardest. And I’m hungry. And I totally don’t care what you think. Oh! By the way… I totally forgot to tell you. I talked to Kyungsoo today.”

“Hmm,” said Otaku Garbage. “How did that go?”

Chanyeol gave up on moving his microwave to the kitchen and fixing his instant noodles. He suddenly felt like he had no appetite at all. “It was fine,” he said shortly. “You know. It went the way things like that usually go.”

“So it was awkward and you feel like shit?”

“Shuuuuut uuuuup,” Chanyeol groaned. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, though. There was something about the acid in Otaku Garbage’s words that made him laugh—that light, sweet tone was deceptive. It was easy to fall into, but then Chanyeol was hit with the realization that he had accidentally stumbled into something like a toxic swamp that just happened to have pretty flowers surrounding it. He liked it, in a weird way.

“Are you worried about Kyungsoo going away? Like, are you worried about how he’ll do?”

“I guess so,” Chanyeol said. He wrapped himself in a blanket, feeling comforted by the slight pressure it offered. “Have you, uh, ever left the city before?”

“Not really.”

“We live in a small town just outside the city. If you go outside and look at the sky at night, it’s amazing, honestly. It’s like you can see forever. Every single star, and it’s all so bright. You can’t see that when you go to the city.”

Otaku Garbage was silent, waiting for Chanyeol to continue.

“And Kyungsoo’s so bright. When he’s right here. When he’s home. I can see him. I see him and I’m sure I can see forever. And it’s like I can’t stand the idea of him going to a place where people don’t see him, the same way you can’t see stars in the big city. They’re there, and they exist, but you can’t see them.”

“I understand.”

“I won’t be able to see him when he’s gone.”

“But he’ll come back.”

“I don’t know about that.”

And maybe that was it. Maybe the issue wasn’t Kyungsoo leaving—maybe it was knowing there was a chance Kyungsoo simply wouldn’t come back.

That was most definitely it.

“Hey,” Chanyeol said, breaking through a heavy but not entirely uncomfortable silence. “What are you studying?”

“You’re just trying to get me to feel sorry for you so I’ll ease your curiosity, huh? Well, whatever. I’m studying music. I sing.”

“You’ll have to sing for me sometime,” Chanyeol said. “Hang on a second, let me do something.” He went into his contacts and changed the name from Otaku Garbage to Music Major. “Alright. That’s much better.”

“What is?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all.”

 

 

 

They talked every night. When the dull ache of Kyungsoo’s decision to essentially cut Chanyeol off finally started to fade, it was almost as if a barrier was broken down. They talked about politics. Religion. Life. They talked about anything they could think of. They texted during the day and talked until they were both too exhausted to say another word at night.

Still, they had yet to exchange names. Neither had any idea what the other looked like. Music Major was fine with that, and Chanyeol was constantly coming up with new reasons of why that could possibly be. Was he afraid of intimacy? Was he actually sixty years old? The possibilities were endless. It was only natural for Chanyeol to want to know exactly who he was talking to.

“Isn’t there beauty to be found in the fact that we’ve managed to cultivate a friendship like this, hardly knowing anything about each other? I mean, people do it on the internet all the time,” Music Major said.

“Yeah, they do,” said Chanyeol, “but I think after a point, lots of people share personal information about themselves with the people they get really close to. Like, okay. What if something happened to you? What if you got hit by a car while you were walking to class and you died? How would I even know? Suddenly we would just stop talking… and that would be that.”

“Don’t worry about stupid things like that,” said Music Major.

“It’s hard not to. I guess because you’re my friend. Maybe you don’t consider me a friend, though.”

“I do consider you a friend, Drunk Asshole.”

“I can’t believe that is still my name in your phone. It’s been, like, months.”

“Okay, fine,” said Music Major, “let’s come up with something else. Underachieving Bagboy? Emotionally Needy Millennial Fuck Up?”

“Jesus CHRIST, you are mean! You are so seriously so fucking mean. Do you have friends in real life?”

“I do.”

“Really? Like, seriously?” Chanyeol asked disbelievingly. “I have a hard time believing that.”

Music Major laughed. Nothing ever really seemed to hurt his feelings or get under his skin and Chanyeol envied that about him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please, please forgive me! I’m a terrible liar and you are truly my only friend in the entire world. Without you, I’m nothing.”

“I can do without the sarcasm,” Chanyeol grumbled. He could practically hear Music Major rolling his eyes.

“Hey… What are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“We should hang out.”

For a brief, rare moment, Music Major was silent. “I don’t know,” he said finally.

“Oh. Well. …Will we ever?”

“I don’t know.”

 

 

 **Chanyeol, 6:30 AM** :  
_literally just got a text from jongdae saying he dropped kyungsoo off at the airport. nice to know i was kept in the loop_

 **Chanyeol, 6:35 AM** :  
_im sorry it’s like super early. i shouldn’t be bothering you about dumb shit_

 **Music Major, 6:39 AM** :  
_No no no pkease bother me all you want. I’m relaly sorry. :((_

 **Chanyeol, 6:41 AM** :  
_youre barely awake. you hate being up this early._

 **Music Major, 6:44 AM** :  
_ONly for you~~~~~~~~_

 **Chanyeol, 6:47 AM** :  
_shut up and go back to bed_

 **Music Major, 6:51 AM** :  
_Ok. Love yuo~ chuuuuuuu_

 **Chanyeol, 6:53 AM** :  
_LMFAO. love you too, asshole._

 

 

Chanyeol considered going back to school. He considered emptying out his savings and traveling. He considered looking for a new job. He considered a lot of things that he honestly had no intention of actually doing. It was fun to talk about them with Music Major in the dead of night, but by the time morning rolled around and Chanyeol was pinning his nametag to his ugly red work shirt, he just felt kind of empty.

It wasn’t about Kyungsoo anymore. It stopped being about Kyungsoo a long time ago.

“Maybe you’re depressed,” Music Major said. “Hang on, I’m at checkout.”

Chanyeol dawdled, hands in his pocket, until Music Major returned. He was halfway between the store and his apartment because something about the idea of going home was making him feel like his entire body was going to explode.

“Sorry about that. I’m having awful headaches lately. For some reason the beginning of a new semester is more stressful to make than any other part of the school year. Anyway, just consider the possibility. It’s not unusual. But it might not even be that serious. You’re in your early twenties, you’re not in school, you hate your job, and you haven’t called your mom in like two months. Think about that. You need a sense of purpose. Since you’re pathetic and all, you let your entire life revolve around your boyfriend for as long as he kept you around and now that he’s gone, you’ve had to face life completely on your own. That’s some crazy shit.”

The thing about Music Major that drove Chanyeol up the wall was that he was right about nearly everything. It was like he had a special knack for both objectively analyzing a situation while still considering the feelings and emotions of anyone involved. And it was annoying. Chanyeol didn’t want good advice right now. He wanted someone to tell him he had every right to be fucking miserable, he wanted someone to agree that the world did indeed seem like it was working against him.

But that just wasn’t true.

“My life isn’t that hard,” he said.

Music Major agreed. He quickly added, “I’m not saying you shouldn’t feel bad about things every now and again. Everyone feels bad. Last semester I skipped a whole week of class just because I didn’t feel like getting out of bed. It happens. You’re in a rut.”

Of course, Chanyeol already knew that.

He could hear thunder rolling in the distance and decided it was best to go home.

Music Major assured Chanyeol that his schedule was completely clear for the evening and they could chat as long as Chanyeol wanted. It was comforting—that was the word for Music Major now. Not mysterious, not mean, but genuinely comforting.

Chanyeol had managed to do his unpacking during the nights he wanted to take his mind off of everything that was bothering him. His apartment looked habitable and that did make him feel at least a little bit comfortable. He joked that he should invite Music Major over, but he knew that would probably never happen.

It was troublesome to admit how sad that made him feel.

“I don’t even know what I would study if I went back to school. How do you have everything all figured out?”

“I don’t,” Music Major said simply. “What good is this degree going to do for me?”

“Then why get it?”

“I love singing. I’m good at it. I’m not good at anything else.”

Chanyeol could hear the sound of keys rustling on the other end of the line, and a door opening and shutting. He imagined what Music Major’s apartment looked like. It was probably organized meticulously. He probably liked to keep the curtains open instead of relying on indoor lighting. Maybe it was too big for just one person, and he looked very, very small within its walls.

Maybe Chanyeol thought about this a lot.

“Hey,” Chanyeol said.

“Yeah?”

“I like you. I’m glad we’re friends.”

“I like you, too,” Music Major said. It was more earnest than Chanyeol had been expecting—genuinely sweet, surprisingly.

“It kind of bothers me when I think that I’m never going to really be able to meet you,” Chanyeol admitted. His stomach was twisting into knots, a surefire way of knowing he had just said something that would have probably been better left unsaid. It was too honest, too intimate. “Is there something wrong?”

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“Then tell me why.”

Music Major was silent on the other end of the call. It was slightly disconcerting coming from the boy who was constantly overflowing with words and never at a loss for things to say in any situation. Finally, he said, “I would like to meet you. I’ve thought about it a lot. At first I didn’t realize we would reach this point…I guess. Then when it happened, you were still all hung up on Kyungsoo. I thought it would be weird. This whole thing has been weird, but that would just be the weirdest, probably.”

“What point?”

“I don’t know. Just being this close.”

“And what exactly is weird?”

“Something in me really likes you a lot. I didn’t think it would happen, but it did. It definitely did.”

It felt like a punch in the gut. Not because Chanyeol didn’t want to hear it, but because he would have never expected to hear it in a million years. “I like you, too. I really mean it.”

“What if everything fucks up if we meet each other? What if we can’t have this anymore? That’s what I’m really worried about.”

He was right to be scared about something like that. What they had felt almost unreal in a way. When they spoke, it was something that just the two of them shared. It was always just the two of them. It was special. It was a secret. It was unfailingly the best part of Chanyeol’s day, and that meant the world to him.

What they had was nice, and it served Chanyeol well, but the idea of something more felt worth the risk.

“My name is Chanyeol,” he said.

“Chanyeol,” Music Major repeated quietly.

“Tomorrow I’m going to take the train into the city. I’m going to sit down in the café by the station at noon. I’ll be waiting for you there. If you want to see me, then you can. If you don’t, then you don’t have to show up. I’ll be wearing a green shirt and a stupid hat.”

“Okay,” Music Major said simply.

They hung up. Chanyeol did not want to let himself believe that they had just had their last conversation with each other. He thought about how things were going to play out as he was fell into a fitful sleep. Maybe it would be okay.

Just before his eyes closed for the night, he went into his phone and changed Music Major’s contact name to Him; anything else simply wasn’t enough at this point. He was just him, whoever that was.

 

 

The weather was alright. Chanyeol usually had shitty luck whenever he ventured into the city. The last time he’d went with Kyungsoo, it had stormed and stormed, thunder roaring and lightening flashing. They spent the afternoon hiding out in a bookstore, reading manga together and waiting for the worst of it to pass.

There was no point in thinking of that now.

He was wearing his green shirt. He was wearing his stupid hat. He was sitting in the shitty café and all he could do was wait. No text messages had been shared that day. It was truly up in the air at this point. Would they talk again after this?

It was two o’clock. Chanyeol had told himself that it wouldn’t be worth it to wait—he’d be better off just going home if it seemed hopeless. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

The bell above the entrance to the café chimed. Chanyeol didn’t even bother checking this time. He put his chin in his hands and stared out the window. Now was probably a good time to go. What a waste of a day he could have spent working and furthering his self-loathing. But at least he tried; that was what mattered, he told himself, and nothing else—

“Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol slowly, anxiously turned around. There was a boy—short, dark circles under his eyes, jaw clenched. His wrists were boney. Chanyeol nodded hesitantly. The boy smiled nervously and Chanyeol felt himself melting.

“My name is Baekhyun,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 


End file.
